not always unknown

as always he dreams her like colours too.
those street stalked waves of east-coast nausea

without bitumen stride and monday night fever
she weeps in consentual flava bliss
her rimmed edges buzzin under my wet fingers
goldcard mommas always undone.

mmmm he remarked in rhyme.

at the pub he drops the next invisible mark,
my blood tasting like stained and polished wood
the bands play muted chords: bass rumblers for her

if i ever were a blonde bimbo glass baby
an unstroked logo for the body, he says
all too many times he kneels under her 3 dollar steel
under her comic entrapments - lack of rod-shaped treaty

we sold her skin. told remedies within,
all lost like mapless hard-ons
nipples speaking his names in empty morning plastic network tests
she seeks lessons of drunken remedy in a circular shell now
as then that day that night that un-night

no front rooms, no beer stains
but he assumes postitions for her, quietly, secretly

s/he still understands the blanket, the teamwork
wishes all the missed drinks were two
or less. and us. oh us. yeah them.

now, in his pink glass, his maths is bent - unravelled
imaginary scenes spark them regurgitated shiny dreams

like some thick throbbing nonchalant calculator
up hilly streets he wept that year
waiting for the next count. our sweet-lipped human.
next time, i said.
my tongue in her cheek.